


How To Be Incomplete

by mamalovesherbagels



Category: Glee
Genre: discussion of domestic violence, mark salling is trash so i made puck trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24219298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamalovesherbagels/pseuds/mamalovesherbagels
Summary: A chance encounter with Blaine's mother gives Quinn a glimpse at freedom from Puck's abuse, leading to her showing up at Blaine and Kurt's doorstep. She hasn't seen them in years, but family endures.
Kudos: 2





	How To Be Incomplete

“Nothing’s broken except your nose,” the nurse says quietly, looking at her with a mix of pity and heartache, “just bruised everywhere else. That’s lucky for an accidental fall down the stairs.”

The inflection on the word “accidental” makes it clear that the nurse knows it was just the opposite, and really, Quinn’s not surprised. She knows she’s not fooling anyone.

“Miss Fabray, if you’re in any danger--”

“I’m not,” she lies, not even putting an effort into it, because she knows there'll be no police intervention without any proof. It’s not like when children are abused and medical professionals are mandatory reporters. She’s an adult now. And this is her life. As a battered woman.

“I remember you,” the nurse says quietly.

“That was an accident, too,” Quinn says flatly, assuming she must have ran into this nurse the last time Puck put her in the hospital. She doesn’t usually remember the faces, probably because she spends as much time as possible not making any eye contact and looking at the floor.

“No, honey,” the nurse says sadly, “I remember you from my son’s performances. You were in the glee club together.”

The statement gets her attention, to say the least. She takes a long, hard look at the kind older woman, trying to place a name to the face, but she can’t. Maybe she does have a concussion after all.

“I’m Blaine’s mom, Mrs. Anderson,” she explains, noting the confusion on her face, “you and I never actually met, I don’t think, but I remember you. Blaine pointed out everyone’s name when he showed me the club’s yearbook photo.”  
Ah.

“This isn’t… I know this isn’t very professional of me,” the nurse continues in Quinn’s continued stunned silence, “there’s protocol and this isn’t it. But I can get you a train ticket, and with one phone call you can have a place to stay for a few nights, out of town and away from your husband, while you figure out what to do next. You don’t have to continue living like this, honey.”

“I c-can’t,” she stammers, “I’m fine. I’m not… Puck doesn’t.”

“Miss.. Quinn, if I may,” she says slowly and carefully, “with one look at your file I can see all the injuries and hospital admissions and the pattern is incredibly consistent with domestic violence. You have nothing to be ashamed of, but things are only going to get worse. Let me help you, please; let Blaine and Kurt and I--”

“I haven’t spoken to them in years. I wasn’t even at the wedding. You really think they would want to help?” she asks bitterly, but she’s met with complete sincerity and earnestness in response.

“Yes, yes, honey, I think they would. No, I know they would,” she insists, “Blaine mentioned you on the phone last week.”

“He did?”

“They’re planning a vow renewal, since their first wedding was literally spur of the moment,” she says with the slightest fond smile, “and they don’t know your address to send the invitation. They’re worried. They haven’t heard from you in months.”

“And they don’t just think I’m a stuck up bitch who thinks she’s too good for them?” she asks, genuinely surprised.  
That’s not why she hasn’t been in touch at all- Puck monitors all her communications and had cut them both off from any contact with the glee clubbers. In part because of her various romantic entanglements with more than a few of them, and also, she assumes, because she knows that before she fell off the face of the earth, they would have done anything to help her out if they knew what was going on.

“Not at all,” Mrs. Anderson whispers sadly, “they’re worried. They might not know what’s going on, but they know that something is.”

“I can’t,” Quinn whimpers, voice uncharacteristically small, feeling so completely detached from the strong, bold, ruthless woman she once was when she first Noah Puckerman, “I’m so ashamed… I’ve been trying to figure out how to leave… but I can’t face them. No. What if they don’t believe me? Everyone from that glee club loves Puck. He’s the closest thing we have left to Finn.”

“They’ll believe you, they will. It might be hard for them to wrap their heads around at first, but they know their friend is in trouble and will want to move heaven and earth for you to get you out of it.”

“I can’t…”

“Quinn, honey, even if this isn’t it, you need to find a way out. With the fall you had, it’s a miracle you didn’t miscarry.”

“I… what?”

“...you didn’t know?” the nurse asks meekly.

And that’s how it all begins.

She doesn’t know if she can do it- bring another child of his into the world, especially knowing all she does about him now- but she knows she doesn’t want Puck to make the decision for her.

It’s insane, this is all insane, she thinks to herself, as she quietly sits in the guest bedroom of the Anderson house. Well, she supposes the room once was probably Blaine’s when he was growing up, but now he owns his own apartment in New York with his husband. She has his old backpack, filled with a couple shirts and pants of his mom’s that they thought might fit her, not wanting to risk Puck coming home earlier than usual from a drunken night of the bar and finding her packing.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Blaine’s mom had repeated over and over, but she doesn’t believe it. She’s never felt more ashamed in her life, not even when Finn found out Beth’s true parentage. She’s got her headphones in, feeling like the shame might physically shatter her if she has to hear even the smallest bit of the phone conversation Mrs. Anderson is currently having with her youngest son.

About thirty minutes later, though it feels like two hours to Quinn, Mrs. Anderson comes back in and assures her it’s all taken care of. She just bought her a train ticket and she’ll leave town early that morning. It’s two am, and not even five hours later she’s hugging a woman she just met goodbye on a train platform.

“Thank you, Mrs. And--”

“Leah, please.”

“Thank you, Leah.”

“Go on and be free now, honey, you deserve it.”

She doesn’t get any sleep on the train, too full of anxiety. How are Blaine and Kurt going to receive her? Are they going to pity her, judge her? What if Puck finds her? Is he even home yet? Has he discovered that she’s gone yet? She ditched her phone before she got on the train-- too afraid that he might use it to track her- and she can only imagine the horrific, terrifying texts and voicemails that might await her if she could check them.

She almost pukes from anxiety, or maybe a mix of anxiety and morning sickness, she doesn’t really know, on the cab ride over to the address Leah had written down on a post-it note for her. She doesn’t want to take any risks of being recognized, or really, of Blaine or Kurt being recognized out in public and her ending up in the background of a photo on “broadway twitter.” She’s probably being paranoid, she knows, but her safety is already compromised, no need to do that to Kurt and Blaine. 

She almost runs from the door instead of knocking. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, she says to herself, breath hitching with panic. But she knows they’re expecting her and might come to the train station looking if she doesn’t turn up close to on time, so after a couple of minutes, she takes a deep breath and forces herself to knock on the door.

It opens almost instantaneously, and Blaine is ushering her inside before she can even process it.

“Kurt’s at rehearsal,” he says quickly, before going quiet, probably having no idea what to say. 

And really, she can’t blame him, because she has absolutely no idea what to say in this situation, either.

“Your mom seems nice,” she whispers after a long silence.

“She’s very nice,” he nods awkwardly, sighing before asking, “Quinn, can I hug you?”

“Yes, please,” she squeaks, and soon she’s being engulfed in his arms, but gently enough that she knows he’s being mindful of her injuries, which just makes her burst into tears.

“I got you, I got you,” he murmurs, rubbing her back, “Kurt and I have got you, Quinn. You can stay here as long as you need. We’ll keep you safe.”

“I wanted to reach out,” she sniffles, burying her head into his shoulder, “I didn’t mean to fall out of touch with everyone. Puck… he wouldn’t let me.”

“It’s okay,” Blaine nods, “it’s okay, please don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault, I know. You’re here now, and that’s what really matters. I’m so glad you ran into my mom last night.”

“Fate, maybe,” Quinn murmurs with a tired, sad little laugh, “I still can’t believe… I didn’t even know her twelve hours, and you and I were friends, but never extremely close and she still… what she did was against protocol. She risked her job for me.”

“You needed help,” he says simply, “you’re my friend and you needed help.”

“You and Kurt are renewing your vows?” she asked a moment later, knowing Blaine probably has a million questions but not wanting to talk about… it, yet.

“We are,” he says warily, but he must understand her physical and mental exhaustion, because he launches into all the details of their (second) wedding planning a second later.

As they talk, and she giggles and nods approvingly it almost feels like nothing has changed, as if the circumstances of their reunion aren’t incredibly bizarre and cruel and tragic. They were never best friends, but Blaine’s always been fun and easy to talk to, and they’ve both got that old school glamour in common, and she’s always appreciated that after all the exposition Kurt must have given him on her before he transferred to McKinley he never seemed to judge her. 

“She cheated on my step-brother and lied and said the baby was his,” isn’t really the nicest introduction you could have to someone, but Blaine never gave any indication that it gave him any pause.

It was nice to be treated… normal, by someone fresh and new who wasn’t physically present for all the drama.

“I kind of just wanted something lower key, maybe just in our apartment since it’s a vow renewal, not the original wedding,” he says with a laugh, “but you know Kurt, so of course it’s going to be a big, fancy deal. But he wouldn’t be the man I loved if he didn’t insist on it.”

“Sounds like the Kurt I knew,” she says softly, a bit wistfully.

“He’s still the same person you knew, and so am I,” he nods, catching the subtext there, “we’re still your friends, Quinn.”

“Promise?” she asks, tearing up again.

“I promise. We’ve missed you so much, all of us, not just Kurt and I. Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone you’re here without your permission, I get that you need to keep a low profile right now. But I promise you, everyone misses you and loves you just as much as they did the last time they saw you. We’re a family… a messy, extended family, but a family, and we haven’t been complete without you.”

“I missed you all, too,” she nods tearfully, “I missed you all so much. It’s been… it’s been so lonely.”

“I can’t even imagine,” he sighs, looking like his eyes might be a bit wet himself, “but you’re not alone anymore, Quinn. You have Kurt and I, and we’re going to help you get through this and start fresh.”

“I don’t deserve this, but thank--”

“Yes, yes you do,” he interrupts, shaking his head, “you’re our friend, our family. You would do the same for us if we needed it.”

“Kurt would never hit you.”

“No,” he agrees, “but if either of us were in trouble? No matter how long it had been since we last talked, I know you’d have my back.”

“I would,” she nods, hugging herself, “so… how is everyone?”


End file.
